Rumour Has It
by ExMachiina
Summary: Tachikawa Mimi is a young, beautiful starlet and Ishida Yamato is her dreamy, broody new co-star who the press thinks she's dating. And then there's his friend Yagami Taichi, a footballer known for being as abrasive as he is charming, and has trouble written all over him. If only trouble weren't so attractive. [AU Michi]


**Author's Note:** Thank you so much to the indescribably lovely **Utsukushii Kohana** for not only being my beta and cleaning this up but for being my fellow Michi partner in crime and encouraging me to write this. Been a long time since I've attempted to write pretty much anything, but I couldn't get this out of my head. Enjoy chapter one!

* * *

 _HOT! I love you! I'm your biggest fan! XOXOXO_

 _This is what true beauty looks like…._

 _COME TO BRAZIL_

 _Lol at this nasty skank._

Tachikawa Mimi skimmed through the notifications on her phone, lingering indulgently on the complimentary comments while quickly banishing the negative ones with an upward swipe of her finger. People were _so_ brave under the anonymity of the internet, but would any of these people actually say this to her face? Maybe they already were.

"Do people think I'm a nasty skank?"

Across the table, Inoue Miyako blinked twice. Almost nothing Mimi said fazed her anymore, no matter how arbitrary or out of left field, but this one did give her pause. She stared blankly at Mimi. "What?"

Mimi simply raised her phone so Miyako could get a look at the offending comment in question.

Miyako had to lean practically across the whole table and squint through her vintage cat eye frames to see what Mimi was going on about and when she did, Miyako laughed. Laughed! Where was Sora when you needed her? The redhead was so much more willing to placate Mimi. Sure, Sora had to be on set tomorrow at the crack of dawn but so did Mimi. And Sora didn't have to be on camera like she did.

"I told you, stop reading that crap," Miyako said with a shake of her head, her lavender hair falling in a curtain around her face. "Or just ignore the bad stuff."

Mimi waited.

Miyako heaved a big, purposeful sigh. "And no, people don't think you're a nasty skank. No one who counts, at least."

Satisfied, Mimi flashed her a bright smile. "Thank you."

Heeding Miyako's advice, Mimi set her phone done and instead glanced around the nightclub they were currently sitting in. The venue was overflowing with the bulk congregating on the dance floor where neon lights kaleidoscoped over them. The music was house, or electronic, or whatever it was called these days – the kind without words but with a pulsing, unrelenting bass – and it was just okay. It was an exceedingly average club on all counts, lacking any real sophistication or polish. But they were here on a mission.

"Hey, hot stuff. Those jeans look good on you. Know where else they'd look good? My bedroom floor."

Mimi raised one eyebrow and looked up in the direction of the voice, disdain already painted over her features. Leering down at her with an oily smile was a twenty-something year old guy with thin lips and a goatee that came to a severe point at his chin. Antiquated pick-up lines from this loser were the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. She might have dialled down the bitch face if the guy in question was a) passably attractive or b) saying the pick up line ironically (this one was a long shot) but lo, he was your typical club rat, with too-tight jeans, long, messy hair that was practically flattened against his skull with grease and a shirt so heinous even Ed Hardy would have regifted it.

"Really?" Mimi scoffed. "Has that line ever worked for you?"

The guy winked at her, apparently misinterpreting her contempt as flirtation. _Men_. "First time for everything. "

"Mmm, not likely," Mimi returned faux-sweetly, turning her head back toward Miyako who looked amused. She always enjoyed watching men who had zero chance with Mimi attempt to pick her up.

He didn't take the hint. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Mimi turned her head once more, this time looking bored. "Oh, you're still here? No thank you."

"Oh, come on," the guy said with a chuckle, like this was just some adorable banter or foreplay between them rather than an incredibly unwelcomed interaction. "Just one drink."

Mimi clicked her teeth together in annoyance, amber eyes narrowing into slits as she turned her head toward him a third and final time.

"Let's just get something straight. Even if you were the only other person in this entire bar, block or universe, there's still no version of reality where I would be caught dead getting a drink with somebody who probably can't remember the last time he took a shower." She didn't wait for a response before fluttering her hand dismissively at him. "You can leave now."

The guy was silent for a second, as if weighing between actually acquiescing to her insulting dismissal and sticking around and getting thoroughly dissed again. He finally shuffled away muttering "Bitch," at her as he did so. She didn't bother dignifying that with so much as a glance backward.

"I've got to hand it to you, Mimi," Miyako chuckled as the interloper faded back into the crowd, "You've got a certain way with words." She looked delighted; Miyako loved a good scene.

Mimi pulled a face. "He was repulsive. If you're nice to boys like that, it just encourages them. Now he's probably too embarrassed to hit on another girl for the rest of the night." She flipped a mass of glossy, honey brown curls behind one shoulder. "Really, I did all the women here a favour."

"Tachikawa Mimi, feminist icon," Miyako teased.

Mimi started to smile but halfway through gave up and sighed heavily instead. She pouted out her matte pink lips prettily. " _Miyako_ ," she whined. "I don't want to be here anymore. We've been here for hours and no sign of Ken. I thought you said he'd be here."

"I said he _might_ be here," Miyako corrected. Mimi had a tendency to embellish on the details.

Mimi sighed again, twirling her straw in her tumbler and watching the tonic bubble against the vodka. It wasn't fair! Not that she usually minded clubs. She loved them, as a matter of fact. She loved dancing (and looked good doing it), flirting with men (cute ones, not the tragic brand that had just come by their table) and enjoying the free drinks that often came her way (but never getting so drunk that paparazzi could snap a picture under her skirt). She was young, beautiful, rich and (semi) famous. Club culture was _created_ for the Tachikawa Mimi's of the world and at twenty-three years old she was still enjoying every second.

However, clubs were very little fun when you were there on official business. But her and Miyako had come here with one very specific purpose tonight: meeting Ken Ichijouji.

Ken Ichijouji was Tokyo's new ingénue director. Virtually unheard of two years ago, Ken had filmed and directed an independent drama which had debuted at Japan's largest film festival and subsequently screened at festivals all over the world. The film, entitled 'Lucid', was a cerebral drama about a psychological experiment that had gone very wrong. _Lucid_ had gone on to sweep up top prizes during last year's award season, garnering massive attention and thrusting Ken and his lead actors into the spotlight. He'd then laid low for about a year, only to announce last month that he would be starting a new project, a cinematic retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth. It was already receiving tons of press and had attracted the attention of every young actress in the game. Including Mimi.

She'd be perfect for the part, she just _knew_ it. She was certain she could capture Persephone's youth and naiveté; bring to life the pure and trusting nature that ultimately lead her to Hades.

And also totally kill it at the whole being the Queen of the Underworld thing.

Her agent had promised her he'd get her an audition but just the audition wasn't enough. She just knew if she could talk to Ken for even a mere five minutes that she could exude enough charm and allure to be memorable while he was making casting decisions. She felt it in her bones. It was as good as a sure thing. But first she needed to get to that _meeting him_ part.

Mimi looked around the club some more and wrinkled her nose at some couple practically copulating at the table over. "Why is he coming here of all places, anyway?"

They'd come here because Miyako had gotten a tip that he'd be here tonight but Mimi would imagined Ken, arthouse director that he was, would be more the type for intimate lounges or hipster pubs.

"A friend of Ken's is supposed to be DJing here tonight," Miyako explained. "I know because Haruto is friendly with the owners of this place." Mimi perked up that that; Haruto was one of Miyako's co-workers from her PR firm, so the source was legit. "And they told Haruto that said Ken almost always comes by when he spins."

Mimi perfectly arched eyebrows raised. "Nice work."

Miyako smiled smugly and sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "That's what you pay me for."

"I'm paying you to make sure I don't accidentally post something offensive online and prematurely end my career," Mimi corrected, only half joking. "But your knowledge of pretty much every man, woman and child in Tokyo's entertainment industry _does_ impress."

Mimi's phone vibrated on the table from some new notification, probably one or several of her social media accounts, but this time all she noticed was the clock. "It's so late," she moaned, shoulders slumping as she considered the rough morning she had in store. No chance she was getting more than a few hours' sleep tonight.

Miyako stole a quick glance at her own phone, looking chagrined herself. "I'm sure we won't be here much longer," she said, trying to sound optimistic.

Mimi sighed. "I shouldn't even be here. I have my first scene with Yamato tomorrow and I don't want to look like the living dead."

"Number one, your make-up team exists for that reason and number two," Miyako leaned forward with interest, " _lucky_."

Miyako been a fan of Ishida Yamato for ages now, ever since he'd released his first EP and she'd swooned over those broody blue eyes for the first time. When he'd been cast opposite Mimi, Miyako had groused that Mimi was like a horseshoe; there was no end to the good fortune she attracted.

"Remind me to keep you away from…." Mimi trailed off mid-sentence, her attention suddenly being snapped up by a deliciously rugged man walking into view about ten yards from them. He had dark chocolate-y hair that was mussed up in a sexy sort of way, tanned skin and _damn,_ that body. Even from here she could see the way the muscles in his arms rippled appealingly as he crossed them against his broad chest, stretching out the fabric of his black t-shirt. He parked himself against a wall, looking disinterestedly out into the crowd. Perhaps she could provide some interest…

"Yamato?" Miyako finally prompted.

Mimi slowly tore her eyes away from the man, blinking a few times at Miyako. "Sorry, what?"

Miyako was starting to smirk again. "You were the one who was talking."

"I know," Mimi defended, though truthfully she couldn't even remember what she'd been about to say. Her gaze wandered back over to the babe in black just in time to see a striking woman with jet black hair and a skin tight leather mini dress (which Mimi instantly coveted) press a kiss to his cheek and slip an arm around his waist. Mimi maybe could have held onto the hope that it was just a touchy-feely friend until she noticed his hand crawl toward the brunette's ass.

 _Men_.

"I'm going to get another drink," Mimi announced suddenly, slapping her hands down on the onyx table top and propelling herself up with a flourish. "Want anything?"

"I'm good," Miyako shook her head, one thin eyebrow raised. She reached for her bag. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, save our seat. I'll be back." Without waiting for a reply Mimi began weaving her way through the throng of bodies. The director she was trying to woo was nowhere in sight, the only cute guy in this sea of motley rejects was already spoken for and her early morning wakeup call loomed closer and closer. She decided she deserved a drink. Maybe even a double. It would certainly help with the denial that she should currently be in bed right now. On the other hand, the drink would then make tomorrow morning that much worse but that would be future Mimi's problem. Present Mimi was in charge right now. She quickly scanned the venue for the least busy bar counter, zeroed in on the most tolerable looking one and strutted over.

Being cute and semi-famous had its perks, one being that Mimi rarely had to wait long for a drink. Of course, she couldn't be sure if the bartender had actually recognized her or just thought she was hot but whatever, she now had a double vodka tonic in hand. She maneuvered her way back through the crowd, holding her drink in one hand and trying to wedge her wallet back into her small leather clutch with the other. She had finally about crammed it in when her shoulder bumped hard against another person. Before she could stop it, her glass tipped back forcefully and emptied its contents all down her top. Her very expensive mauve silk Stella McCartney top.

"God!" she gasped as the ice-cold liquid splashed all over her. She immediately began patting at her shirt, but it was for naught. The damage was done. Eyes flashing, she raised her eyes to the culprit.

…Who was none other than rugged black t-shirt guy.

She bore her eyes into his wide, dark ones, waiting expectantly for an apology. The quality of it would determine to what extent she would eviscerate him. It better be a Nobel Prize worthy apology if he ever wanted to get off her black list and wait, was he just _walking away from her?_

Mimi stared incredulously at his retreating figure, jaw dropping further and further until it practically unhinged itself. Without even thinking about it she stalked after him and put a hand on his arm to stop him. When he turned, she stuck a hand on her hip.

"Excuse me! This is a very expensive shirt," she informed him shrilly, shivering as the cocktail and ice seeped through her shirt and onto her skin. And the tonic was faintly sticky too, which was even more uncomfortable.

The guy regarded her coolly and then rolled his shoulders back in a shrug. "Not my fault. You ran into me."

Mimi's jaw dropped open again. "I did not," she said furiously. " _You_ ran into _me."_ She punctuated the words with accusing finger jabs in his direction.

He rolled his eyes at her. _Rolled his eyes!_ The nerve! "You weren't even looking up. If anything, I'm the offended party here." He looked down at his shirt and then back up at her, arrogant smile curving his lips. "But you didn't spill anything on me so you know what? You're forgiven."

She wanted to slap that smug smirk off his annoying face. It was handsome, she could admit, but it was still annoying. She couldn't believe she had wasted even thirty seconds earlier lusting after him. She wouldn't have done so if she had known what a pompous ass he'd be. " _I_ do not need to be forgiven. You need to be forgiven," she said haughtily. "And I don't!" To demonstrate actually how much she certainly did not forgive him she spun on her heel.

Behind her he chuckled and called out, "Nice meeting you."

Fuming, she stormed back over to Miyako, crossing her arms across her chest to conceal the wet stains. It was mortifying. Now she just looked like some drunken party girl who had knocked a drink everywhere and couldn't handle herself.

"Some jerk spilled my drink all over me!" Mimi vented the second she reached the table. Miyako looked up briefly from her phone where she was furiously texting away and then did a double take when she saw the stains. Her lips began curling into a laugh until she noticed the pure venom in Mimi's eyes and promptly pressed them together in a thin line instead.

"Want me to hunt him down and threaten him until he agrees to pay for your dry cleaning bill?" Miyako offered, which Mimi knew she'd follow through on if she so asked. But Mimi just shook her head.

It was just so irritating! Okay, perhaps she hadn't been _entirely_ blameless but would it have been so difficult for him to just apologize?! Just a quick 'I'm sorry', he didn't even have to mean it that much. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a second before becoming conscious of smudging her lipstick and let go.

"Let's just go home," Mimi sighed. "I have to be up in a few hours anyway."

Miyako's brow rose. "Are you sure? Even if Ichijouji's not here, we can try to find out who his friend is and go at it that way."

Mimi shook her head, her mind made up. She'd been unenthusiastic before but now she was feeling downright hostile. All she wanted was to shower, change and go to sleep. "I want to leave."

Miyako knew Mimi well enough to know she wouldn't change her mind so she nodded, gathering her bag while Mimi shrugged on her cropped jacket. Together they headed for the exit, keeping their eyes peeled just in case Ken Ichijouji suddenly leapt from the crowd but they weren't holding their breath.

As they turned their last corner, Mimi spotted the jerk from earlier yet again near the same spot he'd bumped her. The leather-clad brunette was hanging off as they talked to another couple. Mimi rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt, but couldn't resist peeking over nonetheless.

His date continued to chat animatedly to the two others but he saw her. And then winked.

She hated him, she decided.

Cheeks flushing – thank God for dim lighting – she immediately directed her eyes back to Miyako who was leading her out of the club. She followed her through the hallway, down a flight of stairs and finally, blissfully out the front door. They went around the clusters of cigarette smokers so they could hail a cab and Miyako put Mimi in the first one that came up.

"I'll get the next one," she said, opening up the door for her. "Good luck on set tomorrow."

Mimi thanked her, kissed Miyako's cheek goodbye and then sunk down into the backseat. She prattled off her street address as she pulled the door close. The driver smiled at her through the rear view mirror as they pulled away from the curb.

"Fun night?" he asked pleasantly.

"Nope," she grumbled.

He didn't ask any more questions after that.


End file.
